


Splash

by Kate_Shepard



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Avvar Inquisitor (Dragon Age), F/M, Fluff, Short & Sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-25
Updated: 2020-11-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:02:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27706652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kate_Shepard/pseuds/Kate_Shepard
Summary: When Blackwall finds the Inquisitor jumping in puddles, he justhasto ask.
Relationships: Blackwall/Female Inquisitor, Blackwall/Trevelyan (Dragon Age)
Kudos: 17





	Splash

**Author's Note:**

> I was playing DAI and realized the water actually splashes when you jump in it and was just _delighted_. Being close to the stable with Blackwall in sight, this scene popped into my head.  
> There's a possibility of a few more chapters if people like it.

The first time Blackwall saw Inquisitor Trevelyan jumping in a puddle, he almost chiseled his thumb instead of the wooden gryffon. Who did that sort of thing? What kind of military commander jumped around in puddles like a child? 

He’d put a quick stop to whispers in the smithy back in Haven about the Inquisition’s Avvar leader. And Maker knew the rest had stopped on their own after she’d faced down Corypheus and saved the lot of them. But just now, he found himself wondering if there wasn’t a little merit to their concerns. 

The Avvar weren’t all savages, true. That said, a thane’s daughter was a far cry from Orlesian or Ferelden nobility. No Orlesian noblewoman would be caught dead in muddy furs, splashing around and seeing how high she could get the water to go. She’d be worried about ruining her shoes. The Inquisitor didn’t seem to care if she did. 

In fact, she seemed delighted. Her bright laughter carried across the yard. He half-expected her to climb up onto something and jump off just to see if she could get that sleek, silky obsidian hair of hers wet from it. That would just be ridiculous…ly adorable. 

She was a battlemage, a fierce warrior blooded long before he’d met her. Just yesterday, he’d watched her behead that Tevinter mage without a moment’s hesitation. She’d saved his arse a time or two out there, too. She was smart, resourceful, and generally serious. So why did she insist on running around the hold like an unruly child?

She didn’t look at him when he approached, her dark head thrown back and eyes squeezed shut, her dark hair bouncing in its messy bun,a joyful grin stretching her lovely, tattooed face. She was breathtakingly beautiful, and for a moment, he forgot his question with the overwhelming urge to kiss her. 

“Do you feel the magic, Blackwall?” she asked without opening her eyes. She stopped jumping and finally looked at him, eyes the color of the mountains around them shining with happiness. “Do you feel it around us?”

For a heartbeat, he thought she was talking about the spell that had wrapped itself around them. Then she stomped her foot, sending water spraying up around her muddy boot, and he realized she meant the place. 

“No, milady. I’m afraid I don’t know much of magic.”

She spread her hands and turned in a slow circle. “It’s everywhere here. Look. What do you see?”

He rubbed the back of his neck, feeling like a slow schoolboy. “Um. Trees. Grass. Puddles? I don’t know what I’m looking for.”

“Exactly. Trees with leaves. Green grass. Puddles of water. In the gardens, herbs and vegetables. In the fields, crops grow. And yet outside these walls is what? Snow and ice and stone, yes? This high in the mountains, it’s always winter. But inside these walls? Perpetual spring. How? Magic.”

“Is that why you’re ruining your furs jumping in puddles?” he asked.

“They’re not ruined,” she said, sounding utterly unconcerned. “They’re sealed, so a good wash and they’ll be right as rain. And no. I’m jumping in puddles because…well, because they remind me of the summer camp my clan travels to during the planting season. 

“Our growing season is so short that we work sunup to late at night. When I was young, I complained to my mother that I hated the summer camp and wanted to go home. She took my hand, ran to a puddle and jumped in it. I laughed, and after that, we jumped in every puddle we came across. Any time I felt overwhelmed in the summer camp, I would find a puddle.”

She was the Herald of Andraste, yes, and he believed in that wholeheartedly, but he’d forgotten she was a woman, too. _Well_ , he corrected with a look at her, _forgot in some ways_. He was always aware of her beauty, her strength, her intellect, her sheer _guts_. But he’d forgotten she was still mortal, that she ate and dreamed and feared and strained under the pressure. 

‘Save the world,’ they’d told her. ‘Lead an army of people you don’t know. Close the rifts with magic you don’t fully comprehend. Defeat an enemy you don’t understand. Save us all.’ She carried the world on her shoulders and everyone was looking to her to stand straight under its weight, to hold them up, too, to convince them of a holiness she didn’t even believe she possessed. If that meant jumping in puddles and leaping off of rooftops, then Maker bless her for it. 

“You can talk to me, you know,” he said. 

“I don’t want to talk. Talking only adds to the weight. I want to do this.” She jumped up like a hart and splashed them both with frigid water. “Come on, Blackwall. You can’t be serious every hour of every day or you’ll go mad.”

They’d look like fools. People would talk. “What will people think, seeing a Grey Warden and Andraste’s Herald jumping around like children?”

“Hopefully that it’s alright to take joy where they find it. Jump with me, Blackwall. That’s an order.”

Well. When she put it that way, how could he refuse? Not that he could refuse her much at all in any case. With a longsuffering sigh, he hopped into the water with her. It sprayed up, splashing her chin, and she laughed, the sound like bells in the cool, spring-like air.

He’d do anything she asked to hear that laugh again.


End file.
